A Time To Heal
by ThnksFrThMmrs87
Summary: For everyone damaged, their comes a time to heal; you just have to find the right person to help


Disclaimer—I don't own the characters of CSI:NY

The day that Flack showed up to work in a suit again, Stella took the world's deepest breath. Though she knew it was slightly hypocritical given the CSIs' penchant for jeans and boots, she had become accustomed to the tailored suits and outrageous ties Don had worn for so long. When Angell had died he had been put through hell, by death and by his own actions. He had withdrawn from the team, retreating into himself and a bottle. His mannerisms changed, he stopped caring about his appearance, and his carefully cultivated detective's image evaporated. It was like working with a total stranger.

Stella had forced back a gasp the first time he had shown up to a crime scene in jeans and a henley, because it simply wasn't Don's style. When he had shown up with a full day's growth of beard her legs had almost come out from under her. With all of this behind them, it hadn't been much of a shock to her the day he had neglected to answer her phone calls and ignored Danny and Mac. Clearly the breaking point had been reached.

When Flack had appeared at the lab, she knew something had gone down between him and Mac; and though neither man spoke of it, it was clear that whatever the older man had done had made an impression. Two days later, with the compass killer still on the loose, he showed up at the lab for a would be roundtable on their killer in a pressed black suit, pink shirt and absurdly loud tie that made Stella smile as soon as she saw them.

When he came to sit beside her she nudged him with her shoulder, and smiled up into his blessedly clean-shaven face. "Welcome back."

Though the smile he flashed her didn't reach nearly the wattage he was capable of, it was bright and genuine. "Thanks."

Though she would never have admitted it, Stella spent a great deal of their meeting watching him. She along with the rest of the team had been worried half sick about him, though she had been the worst. Maybe it was because she understood self-destructive behavior better than most, or maybe it was because of the kinship they had felt ever since the aftermath of her attack. Either way, she was glad to see him on his way to healing.

For his own part, Flack felt very close to Stella. A bond had formed between the two of them years before in the unlikely venue of a hospital room. He had noticed her watching him, assuming that she was waiting for him to go off the deep end again. Honestly he couldn't blame her or anyone else. He was ashamed of the crap he had pulled, and knew it had almost lost him his life, or at the least his job.

The meeting came to a close and Flack pushed to his feet, wincing as his bruised and aching ribs throbbed painfully. A hand on his arm steadied him, and he somehow wasn't surprised to find that it belonged to Stella. "Thanks Stell," he said with a pained smile. "Guess I'm only getting what I deserve."

She dropped her hand with a frown, knowing that if he wasn't already beat up she would have smacked him. They had all heard what had happened that day he had turned up missing, and the visual of him bloodied and beaten at knife point was not likely to leave her anytime soon. "No one deserves this," she replied firmly.

"Well, we'll agree to disagree on that one." For a moment they cruised through the lab in companionable silence, but something unknown compelled him to speak again. "You free tonight Stell?"

At first she looked a bit startled, but after a moment she smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I'm free."

"My place after shift?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

They went their separate ways for the remainder of the day, with Stella wondering what he needed and Don wondering if he was really ready to lay bare everything he'd been feeling for the past six months. But the date was set, so later that night he opened to a smiling Detective Bonasera, who came bearing coffee and ice cream. Taking the insulated cup and sipping from the strong liquid, he deposited the ice cream in the freezer and led Stella to the couch. As they sat, he rolled his cup nervously between his palms.

"I haven't really talked about everything that happened that day with anyone," he told her. "Not all of it."

"I know," she told him gently.

His eyes rose to meet hers, full of pain and fear. "If you're willing to listen I…" He took a deep breath. "I'd like to now."

Never breaking their eye contact, Stella offered her hand; and when he twined their fingers together she gave a gentle squeeze. "Of course."

Knowing she was there, knowing she was the last person on the planet who would judge him, Don let the floodgates open. It felt better than he could have ever imagined to get it out in the open, to finally let everything go. And with a slim hand clasped in his and quiet green eyes watching him with sympathy, he began to believe for the first time in months that things weren't too far gone to be fixed. Maybe, with Stella's help, he could heal.


End file.
